Interview: Sandra Marchetti
Interview: Sandra Marchetti
By Matthew Johnson
The Chicago Cubs winning the 2016 World Series forever laid to bed goats, roaming black cats, and all spectator attempts to catch fly balls in the postseason. Yet, before the championship and long after the glow of clubhouse champagne and celebrations down Lake Shore Drive, Sandra Marchetti was and continues to consume Cubs baseball, which is the focus of her second and latest poetry collection, Aisle 228 (Stephen F. Austin State University Press). Rather in her favorite seat within the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, or out on the road, listening to the sport as the soundtrack of summer from her favorite broadcasters, Sandra reflects on her relationship with her father, the Midwest, baseball on the radio, and the Cubs, in her latest poetry title.
Recently back from The AWP Conference where she served as a panelist on the topic, “Insiders and Outsiders: Following, Bending, and Breaking Literary Traditions,” Sandra discusses with the Twin Bill, breaking into the space of sports literature, taking in baseball through a variety of mediums, and the process of organizing and writing this collection, which like the Cubs’ 108-year World Series drought, was years in the making.
Your very first poem in the collection, “Frame,” highlights a day at a Chicago Cubs game with your father in Aisle 228 at Wrigley Field. Beyond that individual game, is there a significance to that seating area that inspired you to name your poetry collection after it?
Aisle 228 is a great place to see a game, simply. I sat in those seats for about 20 years, from late childhood to after I got married. They became a sort of home—the season ticket holders in that section and the view from all angles. You could see the sun set between the decks down the left field line, and you’re directly behind first base in the second level of box seats. There isn’t a bad seat at Wrigley, but those were among the best and I miss them. The tickets were no longer available to us after the season ticket holder (a colleague of my dad’s) decided to sell when the team was at an all-time low (the 2013/2014 seasons). We all know what happened after that…
In your poems, you highlight several broadcasters like Harry Carey, Pat Hughes, and Bob Uecker, as well as instances of listening to games rather than watching them. Can you talk about your relationship with baseball through the medium of radio rather than television, and how that influenced your writing of Aisle 228?
Baseball is a game made for radio. Nothing moves too fast that you can’t create a picture of it in your mind. To me, listening to baseball on the radio is like reading a novel. I’d rather imagine it than see an “accurate” image of it on TV. When I’m listening to baseball on the radio—at night on a walk, when I’m nodding off on the couch for a nap—that’s when I’m at my most wistful and nostalgic about the game. I’m truly in love with it. Also, a note about the broadcasters–I recently presented a panel at AWP where I talked about the book and was asked about influences. Instead of “writerly” influences for this book, I took these broadcasters’ voices as my guides. Their cadence, stories, rhythm, love of language is what created the sound of my book.
Along with the idea of listening to baseball because you cannot physically be at the field or stadium, I was also drawn to your idea of place throughout the collection. There are several instances of movement and travel throughout. How does all of that journeying and crossing the country affect your writing and this collection?
Good question! I hadn’t thought about travel and movement as an isolated theme in the book. One thing that I should point out is that I did not play baseball or softball at any high level. But, when I listen and watch games, they make me want to move. Baseball is the perfect medium to do chores to. It’s like the OG podcast—I love washing dishes to baseball, or doing laundry, or exercising. Sometimes I have to remember “it’s baseball” and since there are so many innings and so many games, it’s virtually designed so you don’t see every pitch. This is charming, maybe, as it winds its way into our lives and becomes a layer of our skin. Baseball has been my greatest companion on road trips—when I was on my book tour for my first full-length collection, Confluence, I would listen to three games a day sometimes. It’s just there for you. That is the type of stability we all need in our lives at some level.
Throughout Aisle 228, I saw regional influences outside of the city of Chicago, particularly of the Midwest. Regionalism is definitely an idea that influences my own poetry. How do you think part of the country, and its culture affects your writing?
The Midwest is an interesting landscape for baseball. Too cold to be played here year-round, but a great place to build ballparks–smooth, flat land and lots of it. It’s also an area of the country where you can get in the car and drive for hours and never see a city. So, those aspects are highlighted in this book. My first book was a bit of a love letter to the Midwest, and that’s really just a strand in my work now. Aisle 228 tackles it from a different perspective, perhaps focusing more on people and events than straight landscape. I do think the Cub fan is uniquely Midwestern. Due to games being broadcast on WGN for so long, of course, there are millions of Cub fans who aren’t from the Midwest. But the essence of rooting for the Cubs–which was a longsuffering endeavor for those willing to keep the faith, a group of people who wouldn’t complain, those that could see silver linings–it seems very Midwestern to me.
Several poems in your collection highlight your father. One I particularly enjoyed was, “Listening for Bob Uecker.” Can you elaborate on your father’s impact on your life as a baseball fan?
My father taught me the strike zone. Ninety percent of the baseball games I’ve attended in my life, I’ve sat next to my father. Did my father want a son? Not sure, but he got me and I became a baseball fan early on. I was born during the magical Cubs 1984 season, on a day where the Cubs won in walk-off fashion against Sutter and the Cards at Wrigley to push 31 games over .500. The time of the game was under two hours. You can look it up, as Annie from Bull Durham would say. My father knows the call signs of every station that airs baseball games east of the Mississippi, and most of the ones west too. We used to go to games and play “scouts.” One poem I didn’t write, but I’m beginning to wish I had, is about the hours my dad and I spent in our “toyroom” (den) playing with Barbie dolls and watching baseball games. Every night, every weekend. It was such a calm and peaceful place, and he loved to “play dolls,” too.
As a Cubs fan, you touch on both the heartbreak of postseason defeats and the elation of the 2016 World Series. Witnessing all that, how do you think those experiences influenced your writing and fanhood around baseball?
I had the idea to write this book as early as 2013, so it’s been about ten years in the making. The Cubs themselves have gone through a couple competitive cycles since then–rock bottom, rebuild, crowning glory, tanking, and now rebuilding again. My plan wasn’t to write about the Cubs winning the World Series–something I scarcely allowed myself to dream of in 2014 when I wrote “Frame,” one of the first poems in the book. But, it just happened that the team got good. And we were sensing that it was happening at the end of 2014 and into 2015 of course. The poems really started pouring out. The excitement around the team redoubled my efforts. For a few years there, Cub fans were highly sensitized—all the memories of losing were rushing through us as we thought we might be on the cusp of something, and all the emotions were riding just under the surface. So, I aimed to capture some of that.
To you, what does it mean to be a baseball poet? I know you write about more than just baseball, but it’s an area that you have written quite a lot about. How do you think that area of the literary community has grown since you first started writing?
It’s a mantle I have accepted. In some ways, I feel a bit like a typecast actor, because I do write about other things too! But, there just aren’t that many poets doing this–especially female poets–and I am at the point now where I really want to open doors for folks and let them know this is something they can pursue–that sports literature is a real route for them and not a “non-serious” and “for fun” venture. I think most folks have a piece of sports lit in them somewhere. In some ways, I think I started writing these poems to connect with my father through poetry, something that has been hard to do. My mother always loved my writing—she connected to what she’d call the “nature” and “love” poems that I wrote. But, for my father, it was more difficult. These poems work within a lexicon he knows so well and within his framework of memories. But, now I know there’s an audience beyond my immediate family—and I’m so thankful for that! People ask me when the book is coming out, and they aren’t even baseball fans. Baseball fans hear the poems and feel seen. It’s magical and in many ways, I’m just a conduit.
I know you recently participated in a panel at the latest AWP Conference. Can you talk about the discussion you helped lead and facilitate on the topic, “Insiders and Outsiders: Following, Bending, and Breaking Literary Traditions” and the conversations that were had?
Of course! I’ve talked about some of those things in this interview already—the fact that broadcasters were my influence for the sound of the book and not writers, the idea that everyone can write sports literature, the thought that there just aren’t enough women, people of color, or LGBTQIA+ folks in the sports writing space in general. I do feel like a bit of an outsider, even as a white woman, because most of the folks I publish with are older white men. And I am tremendously privileged to break into this space, when others cannot or aren’t being asked in. One thing I do want to mention is that if you want to write articles and essays about sports—there is money to be made and sports media outlets do want you—they are bumbling and are not great at finding people of color, women, or LGBTQIA+ folks, but they do want to hear your voice and know that the lack of diversity in their space is real. So pitch some outlets on Twitter if you have an idea!
If you send us proof of purchase of Sandra Marchetti’s Aisle 228 or Mathew Johnson’s Far From New York State, we will give you a code for a free submission.
Sandra Marchetti is the author of Aisle 228. Her poem “Pods” appeared in Issue Eight of The Twin Bill.
Matthew Johnson is a three-time Best of the Net Nominee and the author of ‘Shadow Folks and Soul Songs’ (Kelsay Books) and his most recent collection, “Far from New York State” (NYQ Press). His poetry has appeared in Roanoke Review, Front Porch Review, The Maryland Literary Review, Up the Staircase Quarterly, and elsewhere. Matthew is the recipient of a Sundress Publications Residency. He is a former sports journalist and editor who wrote for the USA Today College and the Daily Star in Oneonta, NY. An MA graduate from UNC-Greensboro, he is the managing editor of The Portrait of New England and the poetry editor of The Twin Bill.
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